


not the bees

by lexiewritesthings



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Bees, Boggarts, Good times, M/M, Spiders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 14:06:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6960106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexiewritesthings/pseuds/lexiewritesthings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are those bees?” Hartley couldn’t contain his glee. A few students snickered. Cisco’s shoulders tensed. </p><p>“Riddikulus!” he said, voice strong. The swarm of bees dissolved into smoke. He turned and sent Hartley a look that would have paralyzed the boggart just as effectively as the spell. “Why don’t you go, then, Rathaway?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	not the bees

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic for hartmon week (and in general)! it was a little rushed and unbeta'd, so im super open to any criticisms/spelling and grammar corrections

“Next!” The line of students shuffled forward, buzzing with nervous energy. The air was stifling. Professor McGee refused to open the window for fear the boggart would make an escape. Most had shed their robes and rolled up their sleeves. Hartley craned his neck to try to see over the heads of the students in front of him. The boggart flickered and twisted, materializing as a new shape: an enormous swarm of spiders, crawling and writhing over each other like a living carpet.

“Riddikulus!” the boy said, voice an octave higher than usual. The spiders instantly stilled. Hartley realized they’d been turned into a literal carpet. The boy’s (Hartley honestly had no idea who he was, nor did he care) face was the color of parchment. Professor McGee took his elbow and helped him off to the side. Hartley rolled his eyes. Pitiful, really. A bead of sweat trickled down his neck. He was doing his best to appear as though he wasn’t dreading his turn. He liked his fears better when they were suppressed.

Professor McGee turned back to the students and smiled brightly. “Next!”

Hartley’s palms felt clammy. The line was dwindling. The Hufflepuff girl behind Hartley was breathing down his neck. He ground his teeth against the urge to turn and fire a jinx at her. There had to be some sort of excuse he could use. Dammit, he wanted a Puking Pastille.

Cisco Ramon stepped forward. Hartley perked. He and Ramon had an interesting history involving several midnight duels, countless curses, and a few near expulsions. They’d worked on growing more civil, which was to say, they’d learned to ignore each other for the most part. Hartley liked to think they’d begun to develop a sliver of mutual respect. Cisco was capable of keeping up with Hartley in both spell and coursework.

Cisco paused to look over his shoulder at the rest of the class. His gaze locked with Hartley’s. The corners of Hartley’s mouth tugged up instinctively into a well practiced, smug smirk. A dark cloud passed over Cisco’s expression. He turned away again and squared his shoulders. Hartley straightened up. The boggart shifted again. He could see Cisco’s wand hand shaking. Hartley wasn’t sure what to expect. Honeybee’s gone out of business? His collection of muggle shirts, up in flames? It took him a moment to place the buzzing noise. 

“Are those _bees_?” Hartley couldn’t contain his glee. A few students snickered. Cisco’s shoulders tensed.

“Riddikulus!” he said, voice strong. The swarm of bees dissolved into smoke. He turned and sent Hartley a look that would have paralyzed the boggart just as effectively as the spell. “Why don’t you go, then, Rathaway?”

Someone made an immature ooh’ing noise. Hartley was once again tempted to showcase his hexing prowess. He twirled his wand between his fingers and tried to school his expression into cool disinterest.

“As though I need the practice,” he said. 

“Then prove it,” said one of Cisco’s friends, Caitlin Snow.

Cisco’s other friend, Allen or something, chimed in. “Yeah, let’s see what you’re afraid of.”

Their loyalty was sickening.

Hartley’s mouth was dry. He was beginning to regret speaking, which didn’t happen often. He could practically smell the anticipation radiating from their classmates. Even Professor McGee looked vaguely interested. _Suppressed_ fears.

“My abilities don’t require validation. Professor McGee is well away that I am competent in this spell,” he said, words clipped. “Watch out for the bees, Cisquito.”

He slammed the heavy oak door behind him. His thoughts were scattered as he stormed down the hall, flitting from _stupid idiot Cisco_ , to _useless boggarts, who needs boggarts anyway, they’re rare_ , to _I just walked out of a class I’ve never walked out of a class Hartley you just walked out of a class like a complete coward_ , at a dizzying pace. He turned into the library and sought out the table furthest back. A couple was already seated there, snogging with nauseating intensity. He flicked his wand and they were wrenched apart. They sent him a dirty look as they passed him, straightening their robes. He wrenched a book from a shelf and dropped onto the seat. He flicked through the pages, gaze passing uncomprehendingly over the text. As his thoughts calmed, regret began to seep in. He may have overreacted a tad. The library began to clear. Hartley glanced at the clock. The class had ended. He pushed his glasses up his forehead and massaged his eyelids.

“Hartley?” His eyes flew open. He flared his nostrils as he exhaled and forced himself to look up at Cisco’s stupid face. Cisco looked worried, which made everything about a million times worse. “Professor McGee told me to see if you were okay.”

Hartley snapped his book shut. He didn’t bother telling him that that didn’t seem like a very Professor McGee thing to do. “Please stop talking to me.

“Are you okay?” Cisco said, unphased.

“How did you even _find_ me?”

“You always go to the library when you’re upset.” He dropped into the seat across from him, which Hartley was fairly certain he hadn’t given him permission to do. He wanted to remind him that he’d cursed his perfect hair off once before and he’d be more than happy to do it again. But Cisco was also looking at him with an incredibly sincere expression, and something about it softened the edge of Hartley’s annoyance.

“You seemed really freaked out, man,” Cisco said.

“Freaked by a boggart? Revolutionary,” Hartley said dryly. Cisco didn’t respond immediately, instead letting a long pause fall. He looked like he was having a hard time thinking of what to say. Hartley was seconds away from offering him an easy solution, which was to _leave him alone_ , when he spoke.

“I wasn’t trying to- I mean- you made fun of my bees.” Hartley opened and closed his mouth, twice.

“Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounded?” he said. Cisco glared. It might have been Hartley’s heat frazzled mind playing tricks on him, but he thought he might’ve been suppressing a smile. Cisco sucked his cheek between his teeth and sighed.

“Fine. I know. Bees,” he said.

“Bees,” Hartley agreed.

“It’s stupid.”

Hartley felt the smirk creeping back. “It’s _hilarious_.”

Cisco’s glare returned. “ _I_ didn’t run.”

The words left a bad taste. He twisted his mouth to the side. “Touche.”

“What you’re scared of. Is it that bad?” Cisco said. Hartley sank down an inch in his seat. Failure. His parents finding out. Telling his parents. Being left, forgotten, replaced. Stupid things, childish things.

“The entire point of a boggart is that you’re really not sure what it’s going to be. So it can take you by surprise.” Or something. “Besides, maybe I just find forcing fourteen year olds to confront their darkest fears in front of their peers a tad unethical.”

“It’s clowns, isn’t it? You’re scared of clowns.”

“Cisco.”

“No, wait. Ducks? Moths. It’s moths.” Hartley wanted to hex that self-satisfied smile off of Cisco’s face, among other, more alarming things that propelled him to stand. His chair scraped back so loudly it was a wonder the librarian didn’t hit him with a Stupefy. He tucked the book under his arm. He still had no idea what it was.

“I have to apologize to Professor McGee,” he said. He cut Cisco’s protest off, “I know she didn’t send you.”

“Watch out for the moths!” Cisco called after him. Hartley wanted to strangle him. He absolutely did not smile, and he _definitely_ didn’t almost trip over a first year.

Because that would be stupid.


End file.
